


JDC

by Allronix



Series: Endgame Scenario [4]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allronix/pseuds/Allronix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone out there can beat Kevin Flynn at his own game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	JDC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infiniteviking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteviking/gifts).



Title: JDC

Author: Allronix

Rating: PG (sexual talk)

Summary: Someone's been beating Flynn at his own game

Category: Tron Fanfic challenge, Lulz

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Disney, Steve Lisberger, Bonnie McBaird, the late Brian Daley, Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Joseph Kosinski, or any cast or crew.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _You're_ saying I need to get laid?”

 

“If 'maybe you should look into developing a life outside of the arcade and Encom' means 'you need to get laid' then, yes. You need to get laid.” The fact Alan was saying this was bad enough. The matter-of-fact tone he was using just made it more embarrassing.

 

“This coming from you.” Flynn leaned back against the car seat, unable to get out of the conversation – or the car – in Los Angeles's notorious traffic.

 

One eyebrow raised over the rim of his glasses. “Would you rather hear it from Lora?”

 

That elicited a groan. “Point taken, man. Point taken.”

 

“You put on a good show of being friendly and the life of the party, but I've seen enough to know you go back to an empty bachelor pad overlooking an arcade pit. You're thirty, Flynn. Can't keep being the adolescent forever.”

 

“Dude, you sound like my mother.”

 

“Maybe, but it still wouldn't hurt for you to get away from the computers for a while. Stare at a screen too long and you'll think it starts talking back.”

 

“Maybe the screen does talk back.”

 

“Flynn, you're not making any sense again.”

 

Crap. Alan was a good man – the better man, really, but definitely not the type to question known reality or entertain a lot of “what if.” “Maybe I could code up a girlfriend. What do you think?”

 

“I think you _really_ need to get laid.” Alan flicked on the turn signal and took the exit leading to the arcade.

 

* * *

 

 

Wonderful day this was turning out to be. His Ducati was in the shop, the board shot down his networked computers idea ( _“The topology of peer to peer networking you're proposing is ludicrous. It's not like every home is going to have computers, even twenty years from now.”_ ), and now _Bradley_ of all people, was saying he needed to get a life. Okay, maybe he wasn't quite as jealous as he used to be of the man's good fortune on that front (and good taste in women, for that matter).

 

But he was at his arcade. Business was good. He could hang up the straitjacket...er, business suit up in the apartment upstairs and change into t-shirt and jeans. Time to lose himself in a good game. Now, what to play first?

 

There was a crowd (and a line) at the _Space Paranoids_ machine. _Vice Squad_ had a pair of little blonde girls (twin sisters, by the looks of them) occupying it. Maybe _Pac-Man_ or _Space Invaders_? It was still going to be months before the new _Tron_ game and _Wreck-It Ralph_ debuted, and he mentally tried to size up where to place them.

 

Ah-ha! _Matrix Blaster_ was open. It wasn't his baby the way _Space Paranoids_ had been, but it was still the most sophisticated light-gun shooter on the market, and a masterpiece of his own design if he did say so himself; pseudo 3-D, scaling difficulties, a ducking paddle, and co-op play. Like all of his games, he knew them well enough to keep the high score slot.

 

This time, when the list of high scores came into view...

 

**JDC...45,300**

**KJF...45,000**

 

Wait a minute. Someone beat his high score? Okay, that was strange, but a kid could have had a lucky streak. In went the quarter so he could meet the new challenge.

 

Twenty minutes later, one new score was set.

 

**KJF...45,500**

**JDC...45,300**

 

There now, that was better. He put the light gun in its holster, and went over to the bar to get a soda before going back up to his apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was even more infuriating. Alan had to be elsewhere, so he had to brave the notoriously unreliable bus system. Some corporate shark trying to angle for a deal on the new OS had too much MBA and not enough brains, as he was not even making sense with his demands, and he spilled coffee on his terminal (thank goodness, it was just a terminal. He verified from a different one that there were no casualties on the mainframe). Then the printer jammed, taking the quarterly earnings report.

 

By the time he got home, the arcade was closed. All to himself, he put one quarter into _Matrix Blaster_ and checked the high scores.

 

**JDC...46,750**

**KJF...45,500**

 

'JDC' was starting to piss him off. Seriously? Getting beaten on his own game? Well, this would not do. Time to restore his crown.

 

Thirty minutes later...

 

**KJF...50,000**

**JDC...46,750**

 

There – perfect!

 

* * *

 

Saturday night, and it was time to forget anything resembling work. Ducati was back from the shop. The silly corporate shark was given a deal that was finally in the reasonable ballpark. His paperwork was finally done. Time for a game. Go to _Matrix Blaster_ , check out attract mode, and...

 

**High Score**

**JDC...50,050**

**KJF....50,000**

 

One shot. That little JDC punk beat his score by _one shot_. No way that could be an accident – "JDC" had to be doing this just to mess with him.

 

It was _on._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alan was sitting at the counter nursing a soda of his own while watching Lora play Q-Bert on a nearby machine. Flynn was fuming as he stomped over to the bar and brusquely ordered a soda.

 

“Flynn, what the hell?” Alan was used to Flynn being moody, but not like this over a game.

 

“Hey, Steve,” he asked the guy behind the counter. “There's someone who's been doing really well on _Matrix Blaster._ Uses the initials 'JDC.' Know who that is?”

 

“JDC? Oh, that's Jordan Dana Canas. College student, saw the ID. Comes in here about three times a week, puts a couple quarters in. Doesn't say much of anything.”

 

“Doesn't talk much, huh? What's he going to say to a challenge?”

 

“Challenge?” Steve cocked his head. “You sure?”

 

“Course I'm sure! Two weeks from now. Two quarters, no continues, and I'll put $500 on the table just to sweeten the deal. I'm going to find that 'Jordan Dana Canas' and wipe that smirk off his face!” Flynn snatched the soda and went off grumbling. “Some teenaged punk thinks he can beat me at my _own game._ I'll show him...”

 

Steve wisely waited until the owner was out of earshot and refilled Alan's soda. “Uh, Alan. Should I tell him?”

 

“Tell him what?”

 

“Jordan Dana Canas isn't a teenager...Or a boy.”

 

Alan put the pieces together, and a wicked smile crept across his face. “Naaah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, infiniteviking for pointing me to Tumblr. Here's one for the Lulz section.


End file.
